The batcycle splashed through heavy puddles of rainwater as Batgirl rode it toward the Clocktower from Wayne Manor. Despite the typical protestations of a certain butler, she enjoyed riding the motorcycle in the rain most of all, because of all the splashing. Sure, it got the motorcycle all muddy, but that was what the rain was for, right?
Her mood sobered as she stopped at a traffic light. She could hear the telltale blunt smacks of fists and feet against flesh from almost a block away. A young man had been cornered in an alley by a group of boys she judged to be around his age.
As soon as the light turned green, she steered the cycle into the soaked alley and parked it, then jumplined up to rooftop level, heedless of the rain. Running along the rooftop ledge, she aimed for the largest puddle and leaped toward it to make – literally – a dramatic splash. She landed in a crouch and before the thugs could even be doused by the water, she was in motion. She jabbed one in the solar plexus with her first two fingers. She grabbed another by his hood and slammed him face-first against a third. A roundhouse kick took out the fourth. That left the fifth, who had forgotten all about trying to stab the boy. He froze, staring at her wide-eyed.
To get her point across, she balled up a tight fist and punched it into her open palm. Water splashed off of her black gloves.
He dropped the knife and scampered off, leaving his buddies at her feet, hurting four different ways.
Batgirl crouched over the blond boy, checking to see if he was all right. He was, but he was battered all over and in so much pain it made her hurt.
At a loss for anything else to say, she held three fingers in front of his face. “How … many?”
And then she recognized his face. It was the Ramsey boy from the other night, when Oracle had sent her to the suburbs.